Mistress Mine
by x Veela x
Summary: Secrets kept, Secrets told, Secrets kept that may unfold. There must be a Past behind the Present.
1. Chapter 1

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter One_

The war plaguing the worlds – not just magical, but the muggle world also, was at its height. Parents had clamoured for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to remain open – that was the only barrier between their children and The Dark Lord, the only place where they could learn to survive. Not a day went by where you did not hear of some "atrocity" that decimated lives to pieces – for even the survivors remained a hollow shell after their loved ones were gone.

Yet, you smiled to yourself when you read those articles in _The Daily Prophet_, with your practiced look of cool collection remaining as a painted clay mask upon your face. You did not react with shock – you reacted with pride. Pride for your older brother, having proved his worth to the world, managing to retain his life in the process.

Now in your sixth year, you have only one more year to wait until the Zabini family name will be splashed across the papers once more. You glance down the Slytherin table, seeking out your younger sister. She beams back at you – her own pride for Blaise evident. You stand up, leaving your breakfast unfinished, receiving stares as you stride confidently out of the Great Hall. The Hufflepuffs move out of your way, not wanting to snub you, but not wanting to become associated with such a violent character either. Some of the more worthy Ravenclaws nod in acknowledgement to you – some of them ignore your presence. The Gryffindors scowl and gasp at you and your famed audacity – you smirk back. You receive cheers and applause, some of the older Slytherins clapping you on your shoulder as you continue your Walk of Fame.

You stride out through the Great Hall doors, the applause still ringing in your ears.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._


	2. Chapter 2

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Two_

As you make your way down to the Slytherin common room, you reflect on the changes that have taken place over the war. The year the war officially started was also the year that your brother left Hogwarts. You recall your pride and his, watching as Bellatrix was sorted into Slytherin that year. Despite seeming a cold and closed person, your heart deemed to be as black as your eyes, your heart is spilt into four pieces – love for yourself, your mother, your sister and your brother; your father being granted respect in the place of love.

Indeed, in that year, the "Greatest Wizard known to mankind" fell to the wand of your ex-Head of House. Although you were only a mere fourth year then, you remember the ecstasy you felt when hope was restored for the Dark Side. Your family was to come into the most sought after favour of The Dark Lord. The Malfoys had no students left at Hogwarts, neither had the Crabbes nor the Goyles. Admittedly, there was young Miss Nott, but she _is_ sorted into Ravenclaw, despite her tales that The Hat considered Slytherin most carefully. However, her intelligence won out in the end.

Thus resulting in the Zabini family being favoured as the best option to watch over the most covert operation in Modern Times. Now Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was searching for a Deputy, and what better choice than Ms. Connors, disowned by her father after her sixth year at Hogwarts for her refusal to marry into the Zabini family in an arranged marriage? Even though she was a Slytherin in her Hogwarts days, it would not do to show such preferential treatment to the three "most respectable" houses. Then again, you muse, that depends on one's view of "respectable".

Little did your Headmistress know that in accepting Ms. Connors, she was placing the skeleton key to the door to success in the cool hand of a sixth year. By success, you deliberate fondly, you mean for the Light Side. For Ms Connors, innocent as she may seem, had refused to marry for reasons excluding her anxieties over the respectability of her intended husband.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._


	3. Chapter 3

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Three_

That evening after everyone else had retired to bed, following your Father's orders, you make your way up the marble stairs and carry on the route to the Deputy Headmistress's office. You raise your hand to knock at the door, and you wait for it to open.

As it opens you find your breath hitch slightly as she looks up at you, the candles' light shining off her dark hair, her emerald eyes matching the gleam. "Mr. Zabini?" She asks, expecting you.

"Yes," you hesitate, "Professor?" You decide on, not knowing how to address her.

She smiles, "Although I'm taking over the first to fourth year Potions class, that would not be you," Her assessment is confirmed by a nod of your head, "so you may address me as Ms. Connors." She then realizes that you are still outside her rather spacious office, "You may enter," she tells you, stepping aside so that you may pass, "Feel free to examine that – I'd also be appreciative if you'd move it to the Slytherin common room tonight – I find it rather tiresome to levitate all the way back down to its traditional place in the common room. You'll see where it fits there obviously," She informs you, "One must have an access pass to it – so I advise you to steal all the glances you can once you have set it in its rightful position. I must meet with the Headmistress, but I shall send a house elf back for you later.

Without another word, she sweeps past you, leaving her door open for you. Her hints rather meaningful, your gaze is drawn by the object standing on a plinth against a wall of her office. Although you generally are not a fan of doing as you are told, you take her advice. Drawing out your wand, you levitate the intriguing object down to the common room, taking care not to get caught by nosy rule-breakers.

As you close the entrance behind you, the levitation spell breaks off, as the base of the plinth is attracted automatically to its rightful place in the common room. Now as you glance around, you see that there is something fitting about its placement, the room looking no longer as though it is missing something.

You approach an emerald pensieve near the fire, beautifully ordained with Latin messages and runes. The only English on it reads 'Slytherin' in a beautiful script. Peering inside, you are enthralled by the swirling clouds of thought, and fall into a memory...

_A young women, about sixteen, is chanting. You notice that she appears to be reading Latin off of her arm. Surrounded by a pentagram traced in white candles, she alone stands within. Her peers surround her; all of them covered in shield charms. They know what happens when demons are summoned as most have watched numerous times... and those sixteen and above had done it themselves._

Your heartbeat increases as you recognise what you are witnessing – the Traditional Slytherin Rite. In your times, summoning Demons has been forbidden, though it is still traditional for first years to prove their worth after their Sorting before becoming a fully fledged member of Slytherin House – then even after, their worth had to be reconfirmed as they approached their coming of age.

_Anyone who knew said girl, who was chanting quicker and quicker as time went by, knew that the danger will be even greater than normal. If you knew her, and were in that crowd, you had no doubt the demon would be a very high level. Suddenly, everything comes to a standstill as she pulls out a dagger. She slides it across her palm without even a wince and lets three drops of blood fall onto a picture near her feet. A burst of power rips through the picture, and an entity rises from the image. It is hideous, far more grotesque than most could even imagine. The creature laughs, slashing the young woman's shoulder deeply. She falls to the ground with a scream. Chaos ensues. The crowd scatters, running to their dorms._

_The girl is left alone to contend with the demon she had brought forth. She stands shakily, blood almost gushing from her shoulder injury and points her wand towards the monstrosity, whispering Latin frantically under her breath. It attacks her, scratching and biting... even mentally assaulting her. Despite her initial cries, she does not stop chanting or release her wand, even when she is soaked in her own blood and no doubt in agony._

You realize that she is attempting a banishment charm, which are difficult in the best of conditions.

_Somehow the girl manages it, and the demon is whisked away. You watch as the adrenalin leaves her and she falls to her knees. Sheer will keeps her from passing out, though you wonder how exactly, as her injuries are severe. She summons what you recognize as a blood replenishing potion, several healing salves, and some large wet towelettes from her bag near by. Downing the one potion quickly, she picks up a salve and removes her outer robe, top, and skirt hissing as wounds are reopened from the removal of her clothes. All she wears now is basic underclothing, and even that is now crimson from the blood. Dabbing a damp towelette in the salve, she steadily presses it into every wound and most disappear completely. The slashes on her shoulder do not. They merely fade into highly visible scars._

_Finally sure she will be fine, the girl begins to sob, shaking violently, and does not stop for near fifteen minutes. She crawls over to the couch, her breathing shaky, and lies down, far too weak to summon a blanket. You have no doubt that her sleep will be filled with nightmares, if she sleeps at all. _

Everything blackens and you find yourself back in the deserted common room. Glancing at a clock, you realize you were in the memory for over two hours. Sitting down, you ponder what you saw and realize with a start that the girl was a younger version of The Deputy Headmistress, Ms. Connors. You hadn't realized it before, as you were too caught up in the memory. Lying down on the couch, you wonder how much more she is than meets the eye. And as Chy Connors did more than a decade earlier, you fall into a restless sleep on the largest sofa in the common room.

Elsewhere in the castle, a house elf is on his way to The Deputy Headmistress's office to report his findings.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	4. Chapter 4

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Four_

You smirk as you watch the Slytherins crowing around the pensive. They cannot get within reach of it, as it is surround by a silver line, "Zabini," Flint calls, "Don't you want to see?" You turn to face the crowd lazily as they stare back at you,

"I've already seen – I was asked to bring it in last night." You drawl. Smirking at their faces, you strut out of the common room, heading for breakfast.

Gaining Ms. Connors' trust you find difficult over the week. You realize that she does not give it out easily, though you come to see that you have been handpicked maybe even by The Dark Lord himself to watch over the development.

Your patience wins out, though, as after a fortnight of the pensive nagging at your mind, you are called to Ms. Connors' office. While you make your way to it, you mull over your discoveries of her character – wondering how such aspects have been concealed so well. As you had hoped, you are presented with a "pass" – a silver amulet with your initials engraved upon it.

You notice that a few other favourites are looking particularly smug throughout the week. You subtly let your amulet catch a ray of light and shine it near Flint's eyes. He nods at you and you are rewarded with a flash of light glimmering off of his own amulet. You wonder whether the memories the pensieve shows you will be the same as everyone else. That thought is swiftly squashed – the pensive would show an individual memory to the favoured individual.

A few days later, you find yourself in the quiet of the deserted common room in the dead of night; you find yourself drawn to the pensieve. Peering into the bowl, you're grateful you have a strong stomach as you've stumbled upon a Death Eater raid.

_A twenty-something Chy stood in the middle of the village, all around her, fellow Death Eaters torturing muggles around her. Chy, herself, appeared to have just finished off a few muggles in a bloody heap in front of her. They appear to have been sliced-and-diced up by some type of magical blade, if your observations are correct. Surveying her work, Chy smiled. She looks down and seems to notice she was covered in the muggles' blood, and laughed. Chy laughs and laughs, then she begins to twirl._

_You are strikingly reminded of a young girl spinning in the rain. Except, the dangerous glint and her blood-covered cloak dispel any notions of innocence. You notice that what looks like The Dark Lord is approaching her; he extends a hand to her, clearing his throat to announce his presence. She looks up at him, her forest green eyes still glinting. He smiles charmingly at her. _

"You look beautiful wearing blood, My Dear," The Dark Lord says smoothly.

"Thank you, My Lord. It accents your eyes quite nicely." Chy replies, a small smirk on her face, as she looks directly into his crimson red eyes. You note that this is a bit bold, but aren't really surprised by it. She takes the extended hand, and they apparate away, to Merlin knows where.

_The Death Eaters had apparated back to the meeting hall at Headquarters over fifteen minutes ago, and Chy hadn't noticed. They re-appear in a bedroom, decorated in rich greens and the scene blackens. _

You fall back out of the pensieve, a bit more gracefully than last time. You smile slightly – you already knew that The Deputy Headmistress was with The Dark Lord. All the favoured Slytherins worth anything did. Walking up to your dormitory, you can't help but wonder what else lies in the mysterious basin's murky depths.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	5. Chapter 5

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Five_

You throw the memories to the back of your mind during the day, but as you flourish the finishing paragraph of your Potions essay, you cannot help but think back upon the memories. Indeed, you also wonder what is to come – you would be a fool to turn away from such power and knowledge to gain from the pensieve. From the Dark Lord himself. You consider why you have been chosen – you do not even have The Dark Mark, yet you draw your mind away from those thoughts. Slytherin now also have a "Chosen One", a "Chosen Several" actually.

You set your quill down and watch the flames flicker as the last drops of students seep upstairs.

The pensieve glows from it's place beside you, and you can't help but think something far more interesting than the fire you're watching lies within it's murky depths. Walking over to the basin, you look inside and see what looks like the Great Hall...

_This time, you find yourself in an early memory of the Deputy's. At eleven, she appears to be nothing like the controlled, slightly sarcastic woman that inspects the common room every now and then. In fact, the only reason you recognized her is her long brown hair and green eyes. That, and she's twirling said hair as the elder Chy occasionally does today. The young girl looks nervous... as many are approaching their sorting. _

"Connors, Chy" A younger Minerva McGonagall calls out briskly, and Chy takes a deep breath before walking over to the stool, the eyes of every student upon her. She flinches slightly, almost unnoticeably, when the female professor places the ragged hat on her head. To your shock, you hear the hat in her head. Well, you reason with yourself, it is in her memory...

**"Hello, My Dear, what memories you have. You've dealt with a lot in your eleven years..."** says a voice you recognize as the Sorting Hat's.

**"Don't you dare say what you see, Hat. I swear if anyone finds out about those memories."** Chy whispers furiously in her head.

**"Relax, Child. This is confidential... no one will learn your secrets from me. But by the ways you've handled your life, with cunning, intelligence, and more than a bit of ruthlessness, I can't help but think you'd thrive in... "**

"Slytherin!" and with that announcement by the sorting hat, she takes off the hat with a flourish and walks over to the politely clapping table. She doesn't notice a man you recognize as former Head of House, Severus Snape, looking at her piercingly. He looks very young and you imagine he has just become Head. Chy smoothly walks past the first year girls, who appear to be too stuck up for her taste. Instead, Chy hovers over a dangerous looking boy, despite his first year status, who's sitting alone at the end of the table. He glares at her for a moment, flashing vampiric fangs. She rolls her eyes and sits next to him, whispering something illegible in his ear. His eyes widen, and she sits next to him with no more protest on the boy's part. When the sorting ends about a half hour later, you notice they are chatting amiably while the other first years gossip about them mere feet away. Chy ignores them easily, and you can't help but wonder who the young vampire boy was, as his name was not mentioned and he does not look at all familiar.

You smirk when the scene blackens... seeing the Deputy as a little first year was interesting. For some reason, you could never imagine her as a child. Interesting, that. Still smirking, you go back to gazing at the fire.

To your surprise, the pensieve does not let you gaze for long, and again, there is a flash; this time it is darker. You approach the orb apprehensively.

_You tread along a dark lane, following a cloaked figure, leaves rustling under your feet. The Dark Lord kicks them about and throws open the front gate, and your eyes set upon the oak door. You wince slightly from the bright light, but you continue to the Potter's residence. _

With a fearful crash, The Dark Lord blasts open the front door, as his thoughts echo around you. **The pathetic wretch is calling to his lover that he'll fend you off!** The Dark Lord laughs out loud harshly, unable to contain his hilarity.

The young man is dead with a flash of green light, and a fire erupts inside you, as it must have in The Dark Lord, having just experienced the familiar rush and ecstasy that he delighted in tasting.

**The girl snivels for her son's life, Aww, cute - not.** Yet again, your veins are filled with euphoria as the Dark Lord pretends to reason with her, though you know that he will kill her anyway. In another spilt second of bright green light, she has gone to join her husband.

For a moment, it is as though you are The Dark Lord. **You turn you wand on the boy only for your curse to fail! Inconceivable! What idiocy is this, you feel faint - before you realize it is a rebound. Quickly, you vanish to where you know you will not be disturbed - for years.**

As you land on the common room floor, it is without a shred of your usual grace or elegance. You just witnessed The Boy Who Lived defeat The Dark Lord. You cough, still on your hands and knees as you attempt to regain your breath, knowing that your exterior mask will be held firmly in its place tomorrow as you meet with Ms. Connors.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	6. Chapter 6

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Six_

The meeting is cancelled? You look through letter you received with the morning post once more to check if you may have misread it. You come to the conclusion that it is correction, but why – you pause as a plausible theory forms. Maybe you have not seen the memory she has intended yet.

As you look at her signature, with her name printed, you wonder why she is "Ms. Connors". The idea of The Dark Lord proposing marriage has you stifling laughter, though you know that she was introduced to him as "Ms. Connors".

Maybe the pensieve can explain it. You sigh as you realize that you will have to wait out the day before discovering your answer.

Flash! The pensive glows, sensing your desires – you wonder it they will be fulfilled. You step over the ring and look into the pensieve again. Before you know it, here you are at another memory of Chy's. She's seventeen, on her summer break from her sixth year, and appears to be at her home.

_"Chy! Get down here... we have something important to discuss." shouts a man, who you assume is her father, and Chy walks down the stairs from her room apprehensively. She has her wand in her sleeve, and stops at the bottom of the stairs. Glancing around, you note that Chy realizes her sister is gone... as is her mother. She tenss even more. _

"Father... what is it you wish to speak to me about?" she asks formally, though there is a slight quiver in her tone... so slight that you barely hear it. But it is there.

"I've arranged a marriage for you, a miracle considering it is well known that you've had numerous boyfriends in Hogwarts, with Jared Zabini. He's twenty eight and..."

Chy cut him off, her tone bold. "I will not be marrying, Father, as I've told you several times. Let alone to someone I've never met... no man will control me."

Her father grabs her wrist with one hand, pulling her forward, before he slapped her face with the other. Chy did not even flinch, despite the fact it appears to begin bruising almost immediately. What she did next, however, obviously was a first for her... unlike the slap. Your eyes widen as she twists her hand that he still held, forcing him to release her quickly before she broke his wrist. He pulls out a wand, pointing it at his daughter.

"Crucio. You will marry... or you will be disowned." he hisses.

Chy falsl to the ground. She does not scream though, letting you know this is not her first experience with the curse. Instead she grits her teeth, and after a minute or so, she manages to stand. She then sends a silent disarming hex at him. His wand clatters to the floor, the curse ended.

"Then I suppose I'm disowned. Not that I ever wanted to be in this damn dysfunctional family." Chy says with a slight cough before she Accioed her things that were already packed and shrunk.

Apparently, she had been expecting this. After placing her shrunken things in her pocket, she walks over to the fireplace before she turns around and addresses her father for what would probably be the final time.

"You have no control of me Father, and no matter how hard you tried to bend me to your will, you never succeeded. Nor will anyone." she says strongly, throwing some powder into the fireplace. "Number 13, Spinners End!" Chy hisses, and steps into the flames.

After stumbling out of the fireplace on the other end, she looks at Severus Snape, her Head of House as he drinks his morning tea at the time of her arrival.

"It happened?" he asks simply, glancing at her fresh bruise briefly, and taking another sip of the tea.

"Yes, Professor." Chy confirms quietly, pulling out her rolling luggage and unshrinking it. He sighs, and snaps his fingers. A house-elf appears.

"Take things to the guest room, Slate." he orders, as he stands up, and pours her a cup of tea. He hands it to her, and gestures to a chair across from the one he had recently vacated. Chy sits down gratefully, and takes a sip of the tea. The scene ends.

You shake your head, knowing that Snape would _never_ have done that for an average student of his... and you wonder what Chy had done to gain such a favour.

Turning away, you sneak up the dormitory stairs. You notice a shadow and tilt your head until the light catches his face. Carrying on walking forward, you touch amulets with Flint as he goes downstairs to pursue his memory trial.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	7. Chapter 7

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Seven_

Looking up eagerly, you watch as the owl stream above your head. A parcel drops down towards you and you recognize Storm, Blaise's owl fly haughtily away before some pesky tawny perches on his lofty, clean perch in the Owlery as he awaited a reply letter to be sent out.

Opening the parcel in the seclusion of your dormitory, you discover a silver box about the size of a matchbox. Inside are ashes. A note slips out of the paper, reading, _"My first muggle"._ You know that he could not say anymore. You write your congratulations and your promise to bring it home for Mother, as he would wish you to do.

As you had expected, Storm is on the edge of the highest perch in the Owlery, his coal eyes staring snootily at you as he drifts down to hold his leg professionally out to you. You attach your letter absentmindedly, your thoughts centring on Ms. Connors' muggle raid.

That evening, watching Flint steal down the steps before you tonight, you wait in the shadows, touching amulets as you pass each other.

The sensation of the pensieve now becoming familiar with you, you enter another memory of The Dark Lord.

_The room you had previously been in changed slightly, there was a warmer glow about it - a more feminine presence. You realize that Severus Snape must have an extraordinary connection with your Deputy Headmistress in order to let her put a rug by the fire. The surrounding bookshelves were no longer dusty - as if they had been cleaned._

You hear a clattering - behind one of the bookshelves. You turn your head to see a hidden door being thrown open and Severus Snape stepping out, shutting the bookshelf behind him to stand stiffly by the fire. Silence. He is waiting - waiting for what?

A flash of green and as the clock strikes midnight, Snape bows very low, before remaining on his knees, "Master."

There is a hiss of a voice as what you realize to be the Dark Lord beckons with one clawed hand for him to rise. "Severuss." He hisses, drawing out the "s" in what you remember to be a habit of his. "You wished to speak to me of something in my interest?"

You thought it odd that the Dark Lord would run around for a Death Eater, but you soon realize how valued Severus Snape is - you rapidly perceive how he has risen through the ranks. You do not have time to ponder, though, as The Dark Lord sits elegantly down upon the armchair as Severus stands by the fire.

"I have a proposition for you." He began, "Do not dismiss this as idle gossip. Ms. Connors, Daughter of Sir Connors, has been disowned." The Dark Lord nods to show that he is listening.

"You think she may be of value?" He hisses.

Severus's eyes gleam, "I **know** her to be of value."

The Dark Lord stands up, "I want to see her." he demands.

Severus's lips curl up into a smile, "At your service, My Lord." He draws out his wand and points it at an old fashioned bell system. He rang for what had now become Chy's room. A minute later you hear light footsteps on the stairs.

There is a click of heels on the wooden flooring as a young woman comes into view wearing what you now know to be The Dark Lord's favourite green dress with her black cloak. She looks shocked as she registers Severus's guest, but she quickly conceals it.

Your Deputy Headmistress curtsies to first The Dark Lord and then to Severus. "Sir?" She addresses her ex-teacher as she would in company.

The Dark Lord's mouth flickers into a smile for a moment, "No need to stand on ceremony, Ms. Connors." He gestures for her to take a seat as he stands opposite her, Severus at the pinnacle of the triangle, "The rest of your proposition, Severus?" He turns his attention to his most faithful supporter, although his gaze flickered occasionally back to "Ms. Connors".

You feel a pulling, although your attention is captured, you long to see the next sequence. As you are dragged back to the real world again, you accept that it will be a sequence in another event, or maybe, just a sequence in another's point of view...

Delighted to notice the pensieve flashing slightly, you step forward to view another part of the memory... this one in a format of practically _being_ Chy. That was powerful magic...

_Chy sat elegantly, curious about what appears to be The Dark Lord of the time sitting across from her. Voldemort, wasn't it? At least she thought so. It was so hard to get anyone to say his bloody name! She wondered why Severus, after her graduation a few years ago he permitted her to use his first name and occasionly used hers, hadn't told her of this visit. **Probably thought I'd run.** she thought wryly. **I certainly have a record of running from commitment... during the school year I go all over the world.** Chiding herself to focus, she noticed said Dark Lord glancing at her from time to time in a way that was quite familiar. _

_Nearly jumping and running just from the look in his eyes, Merlin what beautiful eyes, too... red as fresh blood, but Chy restrained herself from fleeing. She would not embarass Severus in such a way. Determinedly looking back to Severus, she realized he'd said something to The Dark Lord while she was thinking. This something had caused him to smile._

"Well, how do you feel about that?" The Dark Lord asked, looking to her for an answer. Chy couldn't very well ask what the question was... that would horribly rude. Chy prided herself on her manners, at least when they were necessary. Glancing to Severus with slight desperation, she was annoyed to note he did not rescue her from this situation. She'd have to rescue herself... and discreetly. 

"Perhaps more information would help me in forming an opinion, Sir?" she asked respectfully, silently cheering that she'd done it. He would tell her what was happening now.

"Well, My Dear, what would you like to know about becoming my follower? I'm sure you understand the basics... and the rest is really an experience." The Dark Lord said smoothly, and Chy nearly fell over.

A Death Eater? A bloody servant? Her vow echoed in her head; **You have no control of me Father, and no matter how hard you tried to bend me to your will, you never succeeded. Nor will anyone!** Sighing, she realized why Severus didn't inform her of this meeting. Chy would've definitely ran... and ran fast.

"I'm afraid I don't exactly have a 'Follower' mentality, Sir. Though I thank you for the wonderful offer." Chy said, in as sincere a voice as possible. "I'll retire to my bedroom now as not to interfere in your business." she finished, standing up. Chy intended to reach her room and then fly away on her broom since she was on the second floor... she may come back later but for now she would leave. As soon as Chy had stood, however, a cold hand had softly gripped her left arm. Chy guessed this wasn't going to be that simple. And she knew it wouldn't be when she looked into his red eyes again. He appeared to be possessive of her already.

"I think that maybe you should reconsider, Ms. Connors." The Dark Lord said softly. You dimly notice her wand in her right sleeve... and realize she has a fair chance of using it. Severus had not said a word, and you wonder how he feels about this, as his blank features make it impossible to tell.

As the scene blackens, you swear. It was just getting good! Oh, well, perhaps The Dark Lord has another memory in here that will add another piece to this puzzle.

Glancing at the clock, you realize it is well into the early hours of the morning. You walk up to bed, your head spinning of information.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	8. Chapter 8

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Eight_

Throughout the following morning, you withdraw into yourself. You feel drained of energy; your face looks paler than usual. The respectful fifth year girls cast you sideways glanced during breakfast, one of them even going so far as to pour your morning pumpkin juice for you, upon seeing that your goblet was empty. It is this action that encourages you to keep up your outer appearance as you raise two fingers in a gesture for when she should stop the flow of the liquid.

As the girl flicks her long dark curtain of silken hair behind her shoulder before she replaces the pitcher on the table, you take a sip of the pumpkin juice. You nod in approval, complementing her on her sense of duty. She takes the sign as her permission to ask after your disposition.

You reply quietly that your mood will pass, leaning up slightly to her as you talk. She smiles at you before returning to her friends as they tilt inwards so they may all share in the knowledge of your wellbeing.

After finishing your morning meal, with no sight of Storm bearing information from Ms. Connors, you saunter out of the Great Hall, smirking at the fifth years.

As the sun sinks down over the forest out of your dormitory view, you take up residence in the common room once more. To tell yourself tomorrow you will sleep, but for today, you will pursue the experience of the Slytherin Pensieve.

You feel a rush of excitement as you are pulled back down into the glowing light - what happens next?

_The Dark Lord let go of her with one last look in her emerald eyes, you almost sense his burning want for her. There is a flicker. You sense some kind of magic in the air. The gleam in his eyes dims, only to give way to a streak of understanding. You realize he must have read her vow as you hear it echoing in your head,_

_**"You have no control of me Father, and no matter how hard you tried to bend me to your will, you never succeeded. Nor will anyone"**_

__

You feel his thoughts echoing like before.

_**"Ms Connors has been disowned for a very good reason indeed. I wonder why she has such an objection, not only to being in the safest power of the most powerful being, but to any man?"**_

__

You thought it strange that The Dark Lord would compare himself to mortal men, but then you remember about the burning desire in his eyes. Mortal men are what he must defeat to defeat her fear of them. For it is fear - fear of being possessed, fear of having no control, of becoming a slave to another's whim that you know she despises.

His outer actions seen by the room, he removes his hand. "Severus will contact me if you change your mind." Then, to add to his odd behaviour, he takes her hand to bow over it. You notice her wand slipping to the floor as he takes her hand and the reason for his action becomes clear - he doesn't want to turn his wand on her.

**_"Why this girl, for I could have any I choose? One more look to her eyes will confirm it, but I deny myself."_**

__

He turns, "Severus." They share a smirk before The Dark Lord vanishes.

You feel again the unwelcome call of the present time. Your head reeling with thoughts spinning around your mind, you come with two feet standing firmly on the stone floor.

You sit opposite the Pensieve staring intently at it, hoping for your Deputy Headmistress to further enlighten you with another memory.

You desperately hope for one more memory, as you have a duty to yourself tomorrow to rest. Another pull; it looks like Chy has another piece of this puzzle. Which is good... considering you _must_ see what happens next.

_As soon as The Dark Lord has left, Chy retrieves her wand. Severus stares at her, as if waiting for an explanation. She sits back down, clutching a pillow to her chest. When it's obvious she will not speak... Severus decides too._

"You foolish child." he hisses, glaring at her. "You could've been killed. You could've gotten **me** tortured extensively if I had attempted to help you... what the hell were you thinking?" 

Chy wipes some excess moisture from her eyes, and looks to Severus dully. "I did what you surely expected... you know me not to follow the will of others, Sir."

Severus glares some more, though a hint of worry is visible in his black eyes. "I was trying to insure your future... he would've made sure you were taken care of. He takes care to ensure the welfare of the talented." 

"I can take care of myself, Severus." Chy reminded him sharply, standing up. "I would've been fine if you'd never introduced me to him. But no, you had to arrange a meeting. Did you see his eyes?" she asked, unsure if she meant the look in them or their beauty.

"Yes, only you could make The Dark Lord fall in love." Severus said dryly. "Though he will probably never admit it."

Chy flushed. "He's not in love with me... certainly not!" she protested... no, she swore never to fall in love. Ever, damn it! He couldn't love her back... he was a bloody Dark Lord.

Severus smirked and spoke softly. "And you're in love too... my, my – the two people I **never** thought would succumb to-"

Chy interrupted him, her blush gone. She obviously had up her barriers. "Shut up, right now. Severus Snape. Or I swear... oh, forget it. Call him back. I might as well join, I like his ideals and-" this time, Severus interrupted her.

"As my Future Lady wishes." he said mockingly, leaving the parlour with a flourish. Chy waited for him to return, with The Dark Lord. 

As the memory ends, you sigh. Damn these memories... they end too quickly. You convince yourself you are contented for the time being. Feeling more drained than ever, you hike up the stairs, seeing no Flint. He had obviously given in tonight.

You walk taller, proud that you were the strongest.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	9. Chapter 9

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Nine_

Throwing yourself back into your school work, you spend the next two days contemplating the meaning of the Pensieve and the memories it shows you. You wonder why it is you who has been chosen first out of all the Slytherins. You come to the conclusion that it is due to your brother. Blaize had always been determined.

As you wait out the evening meal, you can feel your curiosity, biting and snatching at your insides, lingering impatiently to claw its way out into the world. One night away from the memories was too long for your mind, though your body feels well rested.

Your mind feels as though it has been deprived, starved of oxygen. Giving the image that you are concentrating on your studies in the common room until the last straggles eventually retire, you drop the irksome pretence and pray that the Pensieve has found the next sequence in your absence.

Your prayers are answered and once again, you dive into the pool of memories.

_You find yourself standing in Riddle Manor, in the Entertaining Room. It seems as though it is undergoing the process of refurbishment._

_You turn to see The Dark Lord as he was in the previous memory, and your heart jumps as you realize that the Pensieve is continuing the sequence for you. You are surprised to see that he has a young blonde at his feet, resting her head against his knees. Shocked, you find a name for her pretty face with her blonde hair and blue eyes: Narcissa Malfoy. However, you wonder at this point whether she is Narcissa Black. You move so you are sitting opposite them – after all, they cannot see you – and you notice the sparkling ring on her pale finger._

_A figure walks through the door, his face shows the shock that you felt, but you can tell that this emotion is not reflected in his heart. You see his eyes sparkle with what seems to be mirth. Mirth? Severus Snape? You do not dwell on the issue._

"_My Lord, I beg your pardon." He begins to bow out of the room, but The Dark Lord holds up a hand to stop him._

"_Severus, it must be an urgent call." He looked at one of his most loyal servants._

"_Forgive me, Master." I was under the impression that you were," he paused briefly, "unaccompanied." The Dark Lord gestured for him to go on to state his purpose, "You asked me to contact you if," there was another slight moment of awkwardness, "Ms. Connors changed her mind." There was an instant of silence before The Dark Lord let out a harsh laugh._

"_You expect me to go gallivanting about for a young woman – to be at her beck and call?" He laughed again._

_Your attention is drawn by this laugh to the two on the sofa; Narcissa looks cool and collected – unconcerned by "Ms. Connors". You realize that she has learned the rules of The Dark Lord's game – who is she to be wary of his concerns and competition? If he decided he likes another girl better than her, she knew that he would provide for her – she knew he would not let her marriage fail or become a scandal. She knew that if it was her who stepped out of her place, she could not expect the same courtesy._

"_No, Master, I was merely fulfilling your requirement." Severus hastily defended himself._

_The Dark Lord smirked, "I realize that, Severus. You are forgiven for not being informed of my company – we were being rather quiet." He laughed again, but this time in amusement._

_You watch as Severus smirks back in their permitted joke before bowing out to return to Spinner's End._

Again, you feel the unwelcome pull as you feel yourself being drawn out of the memory. You wait eagerly for the next instalment.

It has indeed been too long, it is as though after a day-long Quidditch match there was a magical drought, yet someone has just thrown icy water over you. You desire to submerge yourself once again and surrender to the past.

Though, when you return your thoughts to the memories after their brief spell away, you find yourself hating Narcissa... odd. You must be getting a bit caught up. The Pensieve flashes again, and you eagerly take a peak.

_Severus returned to the room, without The Dark Lord. Chy looks a bit disappointed, but covers it quickly. _

"He's... busy, Chy. I imagine we can sort out your joining later, but he can't visit again tonight." Severus said carefully, knowing his former pupil had a bit of a rash streak when she suppressed strong emotions.

"That's fine." Chy said, appearing to be nonplussed. "I can go to him, he's at Riddle Manor, right Severus?" she asked, standing up. Her green eyes were glinting.

"Do you have a Death Wish? You haven't been invited to his home. The wards won't let you in." Severus insisted in a low tone as she approached the fireplace, trying to reach her before she left.

"Maybe I do." Chy said with a cheeky wink, before throwing some powder into the fireplace. "Riddle Manor!" she called, stepping gracefully into the green flames. Severus' swearing still echoing in her ears upon reaching her destination, she easily distracted the wards with her special "trick". She appeared to be in a meeting room, and looked around. No Dark Lord here. Searching through the manor, room by room, Chy eventually peeks into an Entertaining Room. Seeing him and a blonde, she knocks rather loudly on the slightly ajar door.

"Hello! I figured since you made a House-call once already I'd come to you this time." Chy said in a cheery tone, her occlumency hiding her real feelings. She smirked upon seeing his shock. She'd be shocked too... technically the wards should've kept her out.

You smile as the memory ends... only the Deputy Headmistress would dare do that. You can't wait to see more, but you know you have drunk your fill of memories for tonight.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	10. Chapter 10

– _Mistress Mine –_

_-_

_Chapter Ten_

The next day, you pass Miss Connors in the corridor. You spot her before she sees you, just in time to purposely maintain a blank, professional expression.

"Zabini." She greets, before breezing away after your courteous nod. You wonder when you will next she her. When she will want to talk over the Pensieve with you. What your purpose is in this game if chance.

That evening, you steal down the stone steps in silence, seeing no sign of Flint. You haven't seen him down for a while –perhaps the Pensieve has led him somewhere else in the evenings?

Eagerly, you peer over into the silvery depths, waiting for your presence to be noticed.

You don't have to wait for long – It seems the Pensieve is as excited as you are.

_The Dark Lord points his wand at a snake engraving above the mantelpiece, "Severus!" He called._

_The Death Eater appeared immediately, looking embarrassed either for your Deputy or of her, you couldn't quite tell. Behaving as if the young woman was not there, he tapped Narcissa on her shoulder and she dutifully stood up, turning to him and curtsying. He nodded in acknowledgement and she lightly breezed out of the room with elegance and charm, as if determined to show the newcomer how a proper lady should behave._

"_Severus what is the meaning of this?" he hissed. He called for a House Elf, "Investigate the wards." He commanded before turning back to Severus,_

"_Master." The man looked sincerely embarrassed and stricken at Chy's actions, "Please, I forbade her to leave my residence – you may have guessed that she does not set much score by the rules." Severus' obvious mortification put a smirk on The Dark Lord's face._

"_Well, she had better learn to set score by my rules. Perhaps she is right, Severus, maybe you should let her know more about becoming a Follower." He restrained his laughter as he dismissed them._

_Severus strode over to Chy, his face unreadable as he took hold of her arm and apparated them away. You think the memory is about to end, though you sense no fading or blackness._

"_Narcissa…" The Dark Lord drawls, as she steps forth into the room, "You behaved yourself rather well during that encounter." He softly praised, "I believe you deserve a reward." He paused slightly before drawing him closer to her – so close she must tilt her chin upwards to meet his eyes, "What reward would you like?" He smirked._

_She smiled in return, moving her sparkling hand up his chest to rest on his shoulder and you turn away, willing the memory to change._

The Pensieve senses your wish; for once again, you open your eyes to the Slytherin Common room.

Flash! Here we go again... you sincerely hope Narcissa isn't involved. Chy certainly will be though, as you find yourself at Spinners End.

_Chy stands in the room, looking pleased with herself. Severus looks as though he's about to explode. She just stands there, and then suddenly bursts into laughter._

"You got me involved with your bloody Death Wish and you **laugh**." Severus snarls, appearing to be an inch away from cursing her.

"Did you see that woman? Acting the part of a true lady? That was laughable." Chy gasps out, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dimly, you realize she is borderline hysterical.

Severus glares at her, though he seems to realize this as well. "We'll talk in the morning." he snarls and retires to bed. He makes the mistake that a hysterical Chy is a homebound Chy... a mistake one should never attempt. She walks out the door, not noticing Severus clutch his arm and apparate away... to an impromptu meeting.

Meanwhile, you follow Chy as she walks... and walks. For nearly an hour she walks, before apparantly snapping out of her reverie. Her eyes almost glow when she does, and Chy apparates. She pauses at the wards, now keyed especially to keep her **out**. A bit of coaxing, and a few moments later she appears with a crack in center of the meeting hall. 

"Hello Everyone." Chy says with a vicious smile, her eyes glinting before turning to The Dark Lord and curtseying... though it appears to be more mocking than anything. "So nice to see you again." 

Swearing, you feel a familiar pull. Talk about a cliff-hanger!

After quite a wait, the Pensieve has found the next piece of the memory. Hang on, there seems to have been, in your judgement, two phrases missed out.

_The Dark Lord is striding along a corridor, alone. He sprints up two flights of stairs, his cloak billowing out behind him. He draws his wand and blasts open a door, which has enough sense to shut behind him after he has walked through. You see Chy sitting elegantly on the cushioned loveseat in the corner of the room, toying with a candle._

"_I'm sure you have reason enough for this preposterous behaviour." He said silkily as he shot his wand at the empty fireplace; flames immediately started licking the wood there._

_Your Deputy Head smiled charmingly at him, though you could sense her nervousness, as if only just realizing what she had done. As if to confirm her realizations, The Dark Lord looked at the door, and it obediently clicked its lock into place. _

"_Well?" He prompted, standing by the fire, his expression unreadable._

As the room faded into the Slytherin Common room, you hope your quest continues. The pensieve obviously was rushing you – it clearly had a destination it wanted you to arrive at. Your curiosity bubbling over, you return to your dormitory.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	11. Chapter 11

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Eleven_

As conscience dawns on you the next morning, you open your eyes to rustling from the others around you. Squinting at them, you see them armouring up for quidditch spectation. Green and grey scarves draped across their shoulders over a black or grey base gave the impression of chain mail over a knight's tunic. Heavy boots were pulled on, causing their owners to clank as the metal loops adorning them chinked against each other with every step.

Family colours were heralded from the billowing cloaks behind them. Having succeeded his captaincy from his elder brother, Flint turns to you, his broomstick at his side as though waiting to be unsheathed from an invisible scabbard. You glare imperiously back as you inspect each of them,

"Let me know the score – I have _other matters_ to attend to." Flint nods in acknowledgement. Like any of the others would dare to argue.

You take your time in assembling your attire for the Saturday, lingering long enough so that the school would be gathered on the pitch, _coincidentally_ giving you the common room for yourself.

Struggling to keep your pace under control as you make your way down the steps, your anxiousness of the previous night comes again.

You smile when the scene returns, this part from Chy's memory.

_"Oh, which thing?" Chy said with a mock-confused sigh, placing the candle back on the table. "Breaking through your wards, apparating into a meeting, or giving Severus a coronary?" she asked with a smirk, the only sign of her nervousness being that she had wrapped a strand of hair around her index finger. _

"Well, I'll start with breaking through your wards since that happened first. I already told you that I figured since you made a house-call you wouldn't mind if I did. Seeing your mistress' behaviour was rather amusing, so that was a bonus as well." Chy said with a laugh.

"Your next query would be why I apparated into a meeting of yours... well, to be honest, I didn't know you were having one. But seeing your Death Eaters flounder _**was**__ worth the shock." she said, her smirk never leaving. _

"And why I gave Severus a coronary, well, it's nice to see him shocked every now and then. Though I sincerely hope he isn't hyperventilating anymore." she said with concern, finally sitting up.

"Do you have any other questions? I'd be ever-so-glad to answer them." Chy said with a rather unkind smile.

The scene blackens, and you wonder what the pensieve has next for you. Your pretty sure no one could live and speak to The Dark Lord that way, but Chy _was_ still walking around.

You are shrouded in the dim light of the room once more, and sure enough The Dark Lord has her at wand point.

"_Your Death Wish is evident, __Ms, Connors__," he mocked, "let me fulfil it for you."_

_In a split second, she had lowered his wand with her hand, "That really isn't necessary." The Dark Lord restrained form rolling his eyes with great difficulty, "If you wish to become a follower, you are going about it in the wrong way." He hissed, "You must show respect, not only to me, but to my residence, its inhabitants, and my followers. When I have evidence of that, I may re-consider you after you have proven yourself worthy. You are dismissed."_

_He shot his wand at the door, and it clicked again, showing it was unlocked._

That was short, you think, as you are returned from the Pensieve, but then again, so was his temper…

You are excited when you see the memory is going to continue.

_Chy, however, makes no move to get up. Instead, she sighs and leans back. She then closes her eyes, as if unable to keep them open. _

"I am normally quite respectful... as that is how I was raised. But, I just..." she trailed off, sighing. She opened her eyes again. "I will show you respect, and I could be of great use to you. My potion skills are exemplary and I do have a way with wards as you have seen. Oh, and my first name is Chy, by the way. Please, if I go back to Spinner's End Severus will use me as potion ingredients." she said, looking to him, a bit desperate.

"I will be loyal... I'm always loyal to those I truly respect. You are the third to have gained it." she finished, determination in her eyes.

The memory ends, and you find yourself again in the common room. You peer over the edge of the basin, waiting for more.

And a little more you are rewarded with…

_He laughed, "That's all very well, but how do I know I can trust you? I hardly trust anyone, and you expect me to trust you after all you have done?" He laughed harshly again, "Besides, I don't have a better nature to appeal to, and I already have a Potions Master." He told her._

Though you are submerged in the memory, as though the pensive can detect the future, you find yourself in the common room once more. Mere seconds after you have caught your breath, your ears pick up shouts and triumphant song carrying closer to the common room.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	12. Chapter 12

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Twelve_

Rejoicing in the universal triumph shared by prideful Slytherins the next day, your mind regains its sense of self for a while as your focus is not on your Mission. You feel you have neglected your duty to yourself; it is as though you come back to the world after a mid-conversation absence. You realize things have been happening that had escaped your notice.

You soon get back on your social scheme in the celebratory feel – the goblets of Firewhisky you mercifully refill for a few with a flick of your wand making them disposed to keenly recount events for you at your leisure. As you evaluate their words, you decide that you should devote more time to your life as well as your mission. Your brother may soon be sending you another package.

With more tolerance than you anticipated, you wait until all the stragglers are out of view after the evening dies, for the pensive to reveal it is really to divulge its waiting memories to you.

_Chy looks directly into his eyes when she answers his query, intending to convey her message as truth._

"I will allow you to look into my memories, my thoughts, if you so wish it. Than you can decide whether I am worth your trust." she said, offering him something she had never given anyone. "As for my disrespect, I can offer you no other explanation except that it was a mistake."

Chy stares up at him, and looks stricken for a moment. You could feel her fear, though she squashed it down. You realize how much she cares for The Dark Lord, as sharing her memories would be painful. 

Still short! Damn it... oh, well, you'd need to see the next portion from another perspective anyways. Let's just hope it's in here...

The pensieve glows with victory.

_The Dark Lord's eyes flash, intrigued. What could she have to show him that was so impressive? Despite his ruthless habits screaming for him to throw her out with a few Crucios, he found himself replying in a bored tone, "If you must." He locks the door again and shoot his wand at her; in front of them on the wall formed a black screen with images moving across it – herself, the colour red mingling with the colour green._

_Chy was looking in confusion and her confusion appeared on the screen. She concealed her blush as she realized it would portray her memories for them both to watch._

Your breathing increases as you long for more.

The next part comes quickly... you are glad that the pensieve will at least give you that.

_The Dark Lord and Chy both watch the screen flickers until settling on a memory... wow, a gruesome first choice. Chy's summoning, in all it's bloody mayhem, is less startling the second time you see it... but is still a horrible scene. After showing __**that**__ Chy's mind moves on to a few hours later, where she immediately goes up into the boys dormitory to check on a particular friend of hers who had also summoned last night. Finding him injured, though not as badly as she, Chy takes special care to heal him gently... far more gently than she had attempted with herself._

_After that, another memory appears. Chy appears to be around thirteen...and at home. Her father is screaming at her, when... suddenly he throws a Cruciatus at her. You notice that Chy covers her eyes, gritting her teeth slightly at the sound of her high pitched screams. It must have been the first time she'd been hit with a Crucio... _

Suddenly, the scene ends and the pensieve appears to instantaneously begin searching for the next fragment.

It found its goal, for you were quickly back in the room again,

_The Dark Lord glanced at her, "Fine, fine, you may prove useful." He didn't know what did it. Maybe because of his connections (or lack of) with his own miserable father. Inwardly he winced before the screams faded from the screen. He did not see, though – he was more interested in allowing himself that one glance into her beautiful eyes._

_Wait he just called her beautiful? She was more... __**exotic**__ than Narcissa for sure – Narcissa with her blonde hair and blue eyes, but.. Ms Connors – "Chy" was a far rarer find._

_If he had looked to the screen, he would have noticed that the red was mingling even further into the green._

You lean back, having to steady your head for a moment to comprehend this… development. Your eyes close automatically, begging your body for the release of sleep. You have not been looking after yourself well, lately. Concluding that you could make mistakes, you appreciate the need for rest. Without further ado, you make your way upstairs.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	13. Chapter 13

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Thirteen_

Busying yourself with day-to-day life again seems somewhat bizarre, as you convince fellow Slytherin with a glare that the vague air surrounding you is due to your superiority, rather than you remaining haughtily quiet to observe the social change for yourself.

Your fellow Sixth Years have also found the Deputy Headmistress, Ms. Connors, to have become rather elusive, though the Slytherins are taking advantage of the Headmistress's distraction. You realise that Ms. Connors must have a purpose for you after you have proved your worth. Why else would she clear the detention scene for the Slytherins?

Taking into account all you have seen in the silver swirling mists of the pensieve, you know that Ms. Connors will be enjoying disrupting the usual schedule of the Senior Staff. However, as she transformed into the woman she is now, you perceive that she has become much more adept at concealing her notions.

Perhaps this was enabled under the most accomplished guidance of the Dark Lord? You content yourself with the knowledge that you will soon find out, with the aid of the pensieve. The pensive has already shown you enough to be assured that Ms. Chy Connors will most certainly have an ulterior motive, however proficient she is at masking it.

Having completed your assignments effortlessly throughout the morning, the Saturday afternoon is completely yours. Swaggering out of the Great Hall after lunch, you return to the seclusion of your dormitory. Intending to shut the vision of the world out for just a few mere minutes, you realise how drained of energy your body is.

Mentally, your mind is spinning, whirling in an energetic flurry eager to be unleashed on the next episode of your mission. Your body protests and argues the conflicting view. The elongated hours of waking have taken their toll. Your body wins out; when you next wake up, it is by Flint, shining a silver gleam form his amulet onto your face.

Dutifully, you shake the darkness from your vision, assuming the pose that you were simply bored, waiting for him to finish. You descend the icy stone steps, remembering to wake Flint up at an inappropriate hour when he least needs the "assistance".

And here we go again... the pensieve locates the next section quickly. You instinctively know that the next part will involve the dark mark... and you stare at the pensieve, willing it to show more.

_Chy removed her hands from her face, glancing into his red eyes. She stood up, curtseying genuinely. "I very much appreciate that, My Lord." she then paused, as if unsure of what came next. Asking, 'Now what?' certainly would not be appropriate. Chy looked up curiously, and met his eyes. She didn't realize how few dared to do that, but probably wouldn't care if she was aware. His eyes were far too amazing not to look into... _

There is a brief dark interval of seconds before the glow returns again. This time it is darker, warning you of what is to come.

_Concealing his surprise at her gaze, The Dark Lord moved forwards. "Are you sure you give your full loyalty to me, only to me, and to the Dark Side, vowing no treacherous actions, not even entertaining their thoughts, punishable by an Unforgivable Curse?" He asked her. The vow was a bit more specific than he usually recited, but he sensed something special. He had gotten his way, as usual – she was vowing to be his._

_There was a moment, "Yes." Her voice was barely there. His skills accepting others thoughts were suddenly overflowed with emotion – she was vowing to be controlled by another. To be in another's possession. To be His Property… Well, as much his property as Bellatrix or the other member of the Inner Circle were in any case – and he knew that she had previously persuaded others out of defying him._

_He held out his hand for her to extend her forearm and she did so. Her skin was smooth and unmarked – it was almost a shame to spoil it. Almost. He placed his wand tip to her forearm with a moderate pressure. "Mosmordre!" He cast the Dark Mark permanently on her arm._

You remind yourself to blink, having just watched with your own eyes that very private scene. Your guilt is soon gone however. That was the first of the marks The Dark Lord would ever give her.

You cannot stand still as the Pensieve keeps you waiting again, searching through it's treasure for the silver **you** most want next.

The basin glows for a moment, signifying it has found another memory for you to view.

_Chy stared at the new mark on her left forearm, almost mystified by it. It was so beautiful... such a beautiful mark. You idly wonder if anyone else finds beauty in the things she does. Tracing a finger over the black skull, Chy became overcome with what she had just done._

_**You bent to his will, became a servant... so much for keeping your word**__ hisses a voice within her._

_She shook her head, attempting to silence the vicious inner voice. It says one more thing before it leaves her, however._

_**And you fell in love... breaking your only two rules in one night. You deserve whatever pain you're going to suffer from falling in love with one that does not love.**__ Sighing, Chy looked up to her new Master._

"My Lord, do you have anywhere I could stay for a few nights? At least until I'm sure Severus won't murder me on sight." Chy asked, exhaustion evident in her tone.

"I'll have a house-elf prepare a room." The Dark Lord said quietly, and you wonder what he could be thinking at this moment. "Now, I have to attend to other matters. You will be summoned when a room is ready."

Chy lied down on the loveseat, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She did not see The Dark Lord watching her for a long moment, before slipping out of the room. That night, she would have the best dreams... but with them, the worst nightmares of her life. And in the morning, she will not be able to tell which was which. 

As the memory fades from view, you realize you are becoming addicted to this pensieve's sights. Daylight is beginning to seep in through the tall windows and the house elves are scuttling around you, making their finest efforts not to disturb you with their cleaning.

Abruptly you rise, and revisit your dormitory. Reaching for your piece of the silver, you catch a ray of light with the edge, hitting Flint squarely in return. With a smirk his did not return, you go back contently to your bed, mulling over the memories you have watched, attempting to set aside your private settling of scores.

Satisfied with the thought that Flint will be forced to remain awake until the evening, you close your eyes, defying the sunrise.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	14. Chapter 14

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Fourteen_

For the first time since you started viewing memories in the pensive, you find yourself not looking forward to tonight's events. Still in high spirits from Slytherin's victory on the Quidditch Pitch, the other sixth years in your dorm swap animated conversation at the early hour. Quickly, you dress and make your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, where the conversation is more of a background drone.

You notice that the fifth year girls who were so concerned about your wellbeing throughout the past few weeks seem to have found a boldness in their spirit as they surround you at the Slytherin table. You find their interested gazes heartening as they hang off of your every word. You muse to yourself that you deserve their attention, since over the past weeks you have secluded yourself away from your previously lively social scene.

With a rare smile, you allow them to serve you your breakfast, and listen to their soft chatter. They seem to have heightened their endeavour to find topics to interest you and inform you about the latest Death Eater raid, supposedly involving your brother. They compliment you on your family, and seem in awe of your evasive warning to look for your own name in _The Daily Prophet_ after your Hogwarts years are over.

Casually, you ask them about Ms. Connors. Your expectations of their astute fountain of knowledge are confirmed, as they sift through the gossip for you to find relevant information. Ms. Connors has been extremely occupied, it seems. You wonder if The Dark Lord has added to her tasks.

You will progress with the pensieve tonight. You _will_ succeed in your duty.

_You look around to see that you seem to be in a spacious suite – there are comfy sofas and a large fireplace, a desk with a chair, bookshelves covering one whole wall (and maybe a hidden entrance) as well as a large bed with the green hangings drawn. _

_The Dark Lord sat in an armchair before the fire, a book in his left hand, a glass of amber liquid on a table to his left and Narcissa sitting on the floor to his right, watching the fire, her body leaning against his chair as his right hand ran through her blonde locks absently. Her head remained in this prime position, though her hearing had not detected him flicking a page in the last twenty minutes, though she knew he was "reading"._

_Suddenly, he snapped the old book shut, and placed it on the table. Not being able to resist, she looked up, "My Lord?" She enquired after him._

_The Dark Lord waited a moment, deciding on his actions before smirking and offering her a place on his lap. She graciously accepted, as she always did, and smiled to herself, wondering what else might happen tonight whilst he was in this mood._

_He settled them and traced the neckline of her dress – she did not wear a cloak in his private quarters. "What do you suppose a suitable first mission for Ms. Connors to be?" He asked her._

_She concealed her shock, and replied, "Perhaps a muggle raid? Or maybe just performing a few Cruciatus Curses or Imperius curses if you desire to see her torture before you see her kill." She suggested eloquently._

_He thought about her answer and nodded in appreciation, "Very good, very good." He looked up to see her blue eyes smile delightedly at the praise. He felt a sting, what, was that pity?! The Dark Lord feeling pity after one young lady had showed him a hard past? This would not do._

_He let his had follow the line of her figure to her hips, "Perhaps you should go back to your husband – maybe try for a spare to go with your Heir." He smiled, handing her her wand. She curtseyed and apparrated out, no doubt on a quest to find her husband._

_You realize that The Dark Lord has told Lucius about receiving "favours" from his wife. You feel yourself stung with a tinge of pity as you realize that Lucius would give up anything to his Master, even in the knowledge that his wife was receiving His attentions whilst it was frowned upon for he himself to keep a mistress._

_You imagine Lucius sighing and tossing his book aside, waiting to see if Narcissa would return tonight. You imagine him smirking as she enters his study after a knock and rushes before him to sit with him. Lucius' smirk widening as he opens her cloak to see she has already untied her bodice laces for him. You know that they will let fly each other's anxieties for the evening – Lucius forgetting to wonder if The Dark Lord had simply left his wife unsatisfied or simply found other entertainments. Although you shake your head, telling yourself it is all imagination, your newfound sense of pity only increases._

This time you feel yourself ready to leave The Dark Lord staring into the flames, as you enjoy the splash of cool air to refresh you in the common room.

Although you have only seen one memory tonight, you still cannot detect where the pensieve is heading. What message is it attempting to show you? You cannot understand why the relationship between Chy Connors and The Dark Lord could be so important.

Any valued Death Eater would be aware enough to show his respect for the situation when confronted with it, though you can not help thinking that this is not a task to prepare you for becoming a Death Eater.

You feel a sinking sensation in your stomach as jealously seeps through you. Your brother succeeded in his wish to become a Death Eater, though The Dark Lord has another task for you. You know you should be jubilant that you have been so singled out, though the intelligence in you wins out with the view that it will not be for your benefit.

Should you not be seeing memories of torture and skill; of Potion brewing and deceit, or of powerful knowledge known to none but the few unique individuals to which the knowledge is essential?

You can not derive your mission, your part in this sequence of events. How could the select Slytherins be of use to The Dark Lord? You know none of them have The Dark Mark, although their family is well connected with the Dark Side.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	15. Chapter 15

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Fifteen_

The following morning you wake early with a groan. You are hardly getting enough sleep as it is without being awoken before the latest hour. You look around you distastefully, as if to reprimand the source of bringing you to untimely consciousness. The hangings around your bed are undisturbed; you reach out to peer through them, though the moonlight is not sufficiently strong enough to wake you. You wonder suspiciously if it was one of your braver dorm-mates, though they seem to be sleeping soundly.

With a sigh, you kick back the duvet as if to leave your stress with it, and pad silently out of the room in your soft black trousers that hang low beneath clearly defined hip bones. You decide to thwart the system of late nights, and sneak down the stairs before anyone else would wake up.

A couple lay entwined on the sleek sofa nearest the fire and you eye them with contempt for their peaceful slumber. Recalling a spell your brother gave you last year, you aim your wand at them, whispering in a low voice, "Muffliato."

Feeling smug with your plan, you proceed to the pensieve. The magical object recognises you immediately, and glows warmly for a moment as if in greeting.

Another flash of the liquid, this one appears darker than the rest... perhaps Chy was getting her first mission? Or maybe being tested?

_You find yourself in a rather dark guest room. Chy appears to be asleep, as she lies on the bed... her hair splayed across the pillow. It appears to be in a state of halfway curls and halfway straight strands. Obviously, Chy does a few charms on her hair everyday as it is usually stick-straight when anyone can see her. Watching her sleep for a few moments, you wonder if this memory is just her sleeping. As though the memory sensed your thoughts, the door opened quietly and Severus Snape walks in. Quietly, he swept over to her bed. Smirking, he lit a lumos charm right in her eyes before tapping her shoulder. 3...2...1..._

"Dammit! What the hell is this?" Chy hissed, covering her face with her arms.

"It is I, Severus Snape, bearing a summons to the Entrance Hall. The Dark Lord wants to see what you can do." Severus said dryly, extinguishing the light.

Groaning, Chy opened her eyes again, and glanced at the clock. "Five A.M.? Are you kidding me? When am I due down there?" she asked grumpily, Chy was no morning person.

"Why, Five-fifteen, at the latest." Severus answered, his eyes glinting. You realize he's probably still a bit angry about Chy's antics. "I was supposed to inform you at Four A.M, but really didn't want to walk up _**all**__ those stairs at the time."_

"Fuck! I hate you, Severus." Chy swore a few more times, quite creatively actually, and stumbled out of the bed.

Apparantly, forgetting Severus was there, or maybe just not caring at this point, she ripped off her nightgown and pulled a black dress and a silk black cloak out of her wardrobe, and began casting various cleansing charms on herself. Glancing at Severus, you notice he is actually _**blushing**__ and see him flee the room. Turning back to Chy, you see that she has straightened her hair and thrown on her clothes and a pair of heels, though her hair doesn't look perfect. Chy looked at the clock desperatley, and noted it says 5:09 with a scream. She bolted down the hall, forgetting any of the lessons that a lady "does not run in public" at the sight of those digits. Not that Chy ever particulary cared in the first place, but she was not fond of running. Struggling to keep up with her, you follow her through the winding halls of Riddle Manor until you reach the Entertaining Room with a gasp. Chy caught her breath and looked at the clock conveniently located at the top of the door. It showed a time of 5:14, and the second hand was on the ten. Stepping into the hall, Chy approaches The Dark Lord and curtsies._

"My Lord, I am here for my..." Chy trailed off, a bit unsure of what to call this. She noted a few people around her, Severus among them, and realized this was the inner circle.

"Your examination?" The Dark Lord finished, looking amused. You are unsure if it is at her appearance, Chy literally threw herself together, or her confusion that amuses him. "I will need you to demonstrate the three unforgivables on these mudbloods." he finished, and snapped his fingers. Three very scared people appeared, and Chy looked perplexed for a moment.

_**Does he think I am unable to perform unforgivables? The Hell?**__ Snapping out of her reverie, she pulled out her Rosewood wand and decided to start with her specialty. Turning to the Mudbloods, Chy picked one to start with._

"Imperio." Chy said clearly, her wand pointed at the Mudblood. In a few seconds he was under her control. Forcing him to break his own fingers, Chy restrained her laughter... she had to stay focused. Her eyes glittered as she did her Imperius finale, he twisted around and a satisfying snap was heard as he broke his own back. The other Mudbloods screamed, and Chy turned to the next...

"Crucio." Chy hissed softly, and the Mudblood's screams echoed around the room for around three minutes until his body went slack, signifying his mind had broke, Chy "Hmmphed" as though disappointed and turned to her final victim with a vicious smile.

"Avada Kedavra!" Chy said, gleefully, and the last Mudblood fell back, the light leaving said Mudblood's eyes instantly. Turning to The Dark Lord, you note Chy's eyes were sparkling more than ever as she awaited his comments. 

Pulled out of the memory, you're grateful you're a Slytherin and don't give a damn about Mudbloods or you would've felt sorry for them. The memory of your brother's success adds to your feeling of refusing to pity the worthless filth.

You creep back into your dormitory, planning to collect another hour of priceless sleep before you awake again for your school studies to begin.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer. Also, for letting me steal her characters._


	16. Chapter 16

– _Mistress Mine __–_

_-_

_Chapter Sixteen_

The weekend's welcoming presence dawns on you slowly as consciousness finds you. You brood over the draining exhaustion taking over your life and find yourself feeling more and more dissatisfied.

You're disgusted with yourself for swallowing the foolish notion about your selection for another of The Dark Lord's miracles.

Your own gullibility repulses you.

A strong feeling of detest for the pensieve downstairs overcomes you. As you analyse the sentiment, you come to terms with the idea that it is not what the pensieve is showing you that bothers you. You identify a possibility of jealousy of being forced to endure hours of seemingly endless romanticism through other's eyes.

That could be easily remedied, you muse.

Intending to overcome your frustration, you crawl out of bed slowly, sauntering over to the full length mirror stretching across part of the dormitory wall. The silver gilded edges gleam slightly as you admire your reflection, the mirror purring with obvious pleasure approval as you run a hand through your hair.

You glance out the window, noticing that the sun is fully risen and only Flint keeps you company, his lanky form sprawled out, suffused in sleep for yet another few hours. Feeling rested and fortified with an appealing plan of, quite literally, evening up some numbers, you take your time to shower and dress before descending into the already stirring world.

Dismissing the younger students laid out in front of the fire, you sink onto the luxurious leather sofa, complimenting yourself on your proposal of self indulgence. You look around, enjoying the way the younger Slytherins avoid your gaze, keeping their own eyes averted.

The objects of your quarry appear at the top of the steps, draping their heavy winter cloaks across house elves, their cheeks blushing from the cold and wind. You can distinctly hear the fifth years' laughter as they come further into the common room. Your gaze fixes on the girl that had poured you morning pumpkin juice the other day. You smile appreciatively as she reaches up to finger comb her hair into style, the movement drawing her deliciously fitted shirt over her chest.

Waiting patiently, it entertains you as the each scan the common room for your presence, catching each other's attention when they locate you. They look delighted as you beckon them over. Inwardly laughing to yourself, you recall your mother teaching Trixie that respect and attention would draw the eyes of the worthy men towards her.

Gesturing for the witches to settle themselves around you comfortably, you greet each in turn. Inquiries about the latest actions of Ms. Connors return you little new information, the girls clearly looking troubled that they could not satisfy you.

"Is there not anything else of interest that we may be able to tell you?" You turn to consider Isabella Greengrass, petite yet perfectly formed. Evidently, the girls had put on their best efforts entertaining and trying to find pieces of news to interest you earlier.

_Entertainment, of course_.

Lamenting the fact of not having thought of the plot sooner, you ask for details about the upcoming social gatherings. You intend to spend the early evening constructing a suitable scheme, but for now, you are content to let yourself be amused by your devotees.

-

Dragging your feet, a resigned sigh escapes your mouth as you head down from your nap to the common room, now shrouded in darkness. Sensing your movement on the staircase, candles flickered into life upon the mantelpieces, their glow reflected by the surrounding mirrors to cast an almost eerie tinge upon the room.

Upon approaching the pensieve, you wonder if it will sense your irritation with its latest selection. As you cross the silver line, you could convince yourself that the Slytherin monument of glimmering memories felt faintly apologetic. You are soon sucked in to what appears to be Hogsmeade.

_Spells light up the area, and you note that Chy is in front of a group. She's silently casting spells of various danger at Aurors, while screaming at the three people behind her._

_"You idiots! It was __**so**__ simple. All we were doing was getting a package before it went to Hogwarts. All you morons had to do was not set off the alarms but you couldn't even manage it." she shouted, taking down a few aurors. But they were apparating in faster than Chy alone could defend against. Her one-way shield was failing and she refused to let her group members help... she figured they'd muck it up more than the already had._

_"Activate the damn portkey... one of you idiots activate it. We're not going to complete this mission. There's no way in he-" and suddenly they disappeared, an odd sensation of jerking like a puppet on a string crushng your stomach. Gasping for breath you squeeze your eyes shut, willing it to stop. The pain ebbs away, your eyes snapping open to take in your surroundings. You notice yourself back with the others, reappearing in the entrance hall of Riddle Manor. Chy looked around, seeing if anyone else was there... finding it empty she began to shout._

_"I hope Our Lord __**murders**__ you, because if he doesn't by Merlin I will. I'd be doing society a favor getting rid of you. You're all bloody inept!"she shouted. The members of the group were backing away from her slowly, obviously frightened._

_"This is all Severus' fault. Suggesting me as a group leader after your last leader got __**arrested**__. Oh, yes, once I'm through with you all Snape and I are having a __long__ talk. In fact, I think I'll test my new interrogation techniques with you useless pieces of flesh." she hissed, drawing her wand when suddenly it shot out of her hand and floated towards the doorway. Whipping around, Chy glares at whoever summoned her wand, only to find it was The Dark Lord. She curtseyed quickly, with a lot less grace than usual._

_"My Lord, I'm sorry to say" Chy stops, noting that The Dark Lord has raised his hand for her to stop. He looks furious, and you feel a pang of fear before remembering this is a memory._

Feeling a tug, you realize your time in Chy's point of view has ended. You wonder whether the scene of action was merely to pacify you before returning to the pensieve's romantic agenda, though you find yourself pleasantly surprised when a flame of ire infuses your body.

Once again, the viewpoints had changed, and you find your veins raging with anger – **a ****failed**** mission**?

_You watch as the Dark Lord slowly advances upon the group, your breath hitches with every step he takes._

_He addresses the group before its leader, following the phrase "shoot first and ask questions later." With a casual motion betraying his apathy towards the party, he gestures for them to face away from him. He aims his wand at one and fires – you hear a shriek as you realize that he had shot a jolt of pain at the base of the victim's neck. The victim collapses to the floor, paralyzed. You wonder if throughout some magical means he'll ever be able to walk again._

_The Dark Lord aims his wand a little higher for the next victim – what's left of the balding man's hair is seared away by the lick of the fire-lick pain. On and on The Dark Lord goes, his ministrations accompanied by various yells and outbursts, seeming to know each victim's particular area of weakness. To some of them he caused long term lasting damage, but to all of them he caused enough damage that when they returned from a failed mission next time, they would encounter an Auror along their way and beg for a mercy curse._

_Eventually there is just Chy and The Dark Lord left in the room, still with her back turned to him. You hear his silky voice address her, the torturous outburst seeming to have calmed his nerves slightly, "Do you know what happens to failures, Ms. Connors?" You see a flicker in her eyes as she stares down at the stone beneath her, noticing her demotion to "Ms. Connors"._

"_Torture, and possible death, My Lord." She responds as though even saying the words was torture in itself. You watch him step even closer to her – the toes of hiss boots at the side edge of her vision trained on the ground. He looks around, realizing that his so called Death Eaters are still collected in assorted positions about the room._

"_Excepting Ms. Connors, you are dismissed." He calls. You watch as they look back at their leader before making their way to an apparition point – some looks hold pity for her being so singled out, some look on her as though it might be the last time they see her, some are glad that it is not them in her place. She ignores them. You can almost feel her hear beating, almost hear her thoughts? She guesses that being so singled out is a bad thing – her torture too horrible for others to witness, yet a part of her longs for this singling out to mean something else; something special. She almost laughs at her own thoughts, but his voice brings her back to reality._

"_I believe that most "explanations" are merely excuses disguised; however, Ms. Connors, I call on you to report the details of your __failed__ mission. Look up."_

You reach out as the memory fades into blackness, wanting to know more. You are certain the pensieve feels your gratification for the display tonight.

-

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter; this is purely for the entertainment of myself and others, yet no money is being made in the process._

_Acknowledgements_

_SailorHecate – otherwise known as Chy, my memory co-writer and owner of several characters involved in this tale._


End file.
